I however am starting to hyperventilate. in a big way.
I can feel the water lap over my face as I am being sucked down by the current and the tidal wave is creating an undertow that will crush me slowly instead of an instantaneous death.
The beauty of my body is not measured by the size of the clothes it can fit into, but by the stories that it tells. I have a belly and hips that say, "We grew a child in here," and breasts that say, "We nourished life." My hands, with bitten nails and a writer's callus, say, "We create amazing things."
I really don't think I need buns of steel. I'd be happy with buns of cinnamon.
~Ellen DeGeneres